


Fool's Fortune

by lasersheith



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Humor, M/M, Sheith Prompt Party 2020, crude language, flagrant (accidental) display of weens, frat shenanigans, meet ugly, short mention of puking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:12:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26487718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasersheith/pseuds/lasersheith
Summary: Keith didn't set out to get up under Shiro's toga, but sometimes that's just how it plays out.Pidge had that look in her eyes that could only mean tragedy was about to strike. She was like Cupid, if Cupid were an evil gremlin and way too smart for her own good."His name is Shiro," she hissed in a conspiratorial whisper, holding her hand up by her face for dramatic effect."So?" Keith said with as little interest in his voice as he could manage.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 140
Collections: Sheith Prompt Party 2020





	Fool's Fortune

**Author's Note:**

> Whoever submitted this prompt has my undying love. I hope you like the absurdity I came up with.

“Let’s goooooo!” Pidge hollered at the top of her lungs, pulling Keith’s headphones off the side of his head and letting them slap back against his ear with a _ker-thunk._

Keith winced and pulled them down to rest at his neck, turning to glare at Pidge as he rubbed his sore ear. “What the fuck?” 

She grinned and Keith’s heart dropped; he knew that grin too well, it never meant anything good. 

“You promised to go to the Beta Omega Mu - Alpha Omicron mixer tonight if we got an A on our lab report!” The light seemed to glint off her glasses menacingly, but Keith could only stare in horror at the bright red 98/100 on the top of the report she held aloft. 

Keith stared in disbelief. “No one ever gets an A in Slav’s class,” he said, jaw still hanging open while Pidge gloated. Sure, it was great for his GPA, but at what cost? 

“No one except a Holt!” Pidge cried, thrusting one elbow up to her eyes as her other arm flew out at a 45 degree angle. 

“Fuck,” Keith said, standing up and setting his headphones on his desk. If nothing else, Keith was a man of his word. “Whatever, I gotta change. Gimme five minutes.” 

Pidge cackled and scurried from his dorm room to wait in the hall. He trudged miserably to his closet and regretted every decision he’d ever made as he swiped each hanger with far more force than was necessary. After a few minutes, he decided on a tight black T-shirt, dark-washed jeans, and his favorite leather jacket. 

Quickly freshening up his deodorant and giving his mouth a cursory rinse with the barely-used bottle of Scope next to his tiny sink, Keith sighed and met Pidge out in the hallway. 

“Fine,” he huffed. “Let’s go.” 

Her smile was as triumphant as it was blinding, and she practically skipped the whole way to the parking lot. 

Picking the smartest girl in school as his physics lab partner had seemed like a really good idea to Keith in September, but November-Keith had a long list of qualms that could no longer be addressed. Sure Pidge was hilarious and brilliant and really good at video games and fun to hang out with, but she kept making Keith _do_ things. He wouldn’t have pegged her for a social butterfly, but she’d joined Alpha Omicron because they were the sister sorority to her brother’s frat and Keith’s life hadn’t known peace since. 

Pulling into the packed Alpha Omicron parking lot, Keith swore under his breath. “Do I have to stay the whole time?” he asked, teeth gritted. 

Pidge put her hand on her chin, mocking him as much as she was considering the question. “You have to stay until they hand off the Good Deeds Dildo.” 

“The what?” Keith asked flatly, not sure his brain could have possibly heard her correctly. 

The confusion on his face seemed to only fuel the mischievous fire in Pidge’s eyes. “You heard me. Just don’t let Allura hear you say that, we’re supposed to be above all that. The official name is the Philanthropy Scepter.”

“So why do you call it the Good Deeds Dildo?” 

“The Beta Oms call it the Philanthropy Phallus and we thought it was funny.” 

“I hate Greeks,” Keith muttered, getting out of the car and slamming his door. 

Keith barely had a chance to lock his car before Pidge had him by the arm, practically dragging him to the entrance. He could hear the loud, annoying techno music blaring before they even got to the main foyer. The multi-colored lights were somehow bright enough to make his eyes water and yet too dim to properly see anyone. There were far too many togas. 

Pidge’s grip didn’t let up on his arm until they were at the makeshift bar. “I’m driving,” Keith reminded her as she tried to shove a vodka Redbull at him. 

“One drink won’t hurt,” Pidge said, waving the cup at him. 

Keith rolled his eyes and took the cup. The sickly-sweet liquid rolled down his throat like a boulder, but he was very familiar with the drill: take one big gulp and carry the cup around all night and no one hassles you about being lame and not drinking. Keith was really not a fan of the frat scene. 

Until the president of Beta Omega Mu stumbled in. 

Pidge had that look in her eyes that could only mean tragedy was about to strike. She was like Cupid, if Cupid were an evil gremlin and way too smart for her own good. 

"His name is Shiro," she hissed in a conspiratorial whisper, holding her hand up by her face for dramatic effect. 

"So?" Keith said with as little interest in his voice as he could manage. 

Shiro had a smile that lit up the entire room. Everyone at the makeshift bar seemed happier because he was there. All of the fairly tame conversations suddenly exploded in boisterous laughter and high fives. 

His smile wasn't the only thing Keith noticed right away, he had to admit. Shiro was almost bursting from a very precariously tied toga that Keith was almost certain had to be someone's bedsheet. The Authentic Greek Look was completed with strappy gladiator-style sandals, but the high tech bionic prosthetic attached to his right bicep clashed anachronistically, as did the giant stick in his hand - at least four feet long, made out of plastic painted to look like wood, and adorned with a fist-sized fake gem on top. Pidge was unfortunately right. It did kind of look like a dildo. 

Ridiculous attire aside, Shiro could have been carved from marble by the finest of Greek artisans and Keith would have believed it. 

Pidge had been saying something while Keith was definitely _not_ ogling. "Hello? Keith?" Pidge laughed more than said, waving her hand in front of Keith's face. 

"What?" 

"I _said,"_ she started again, feigning annoyance spoiled by her impish grin. "He's an astrophysics major, graduating this year. He can probably clue you in on all the good professors and copy his notes and old tests for you if you cozy up to him."

"Who says _cozy up_ anymore?" Keith punctuated his sentence with another swig, which he instantly regretted. 

Pidge was about to retort, but Shiro chose that moment to stagger their direction. "Pidge! You made it!" he said, swaying a little unsteadily. "And you brought a friend!" 

He was all smiles as he turned Keith, who willed his heart to stop doing backflips inside his chest. He stuck out his hand for Shiro to shake. 

Shiro's grin didn't falter as he took Keith's hand in his prosthetic and pumped it too many times. "I'm Shiro! President of Beta Omega Mu! You interested in rushing this year?" 

His earnest gray-brown eyes shimmered in the harsh light and the faint dusting of alcohol-induced blush on his cheeks made the vodka churn in Keith's gut. "Keith," he said after a long moment. "I'm uh. Just checking things out for now. First semester." 

Shiro nodded. "Have you picked a major yet?" 

Keith felt his face flush and elected to ignore Pidge’s suggestive eyebrow wiggling behind Shiro’s back. “Astro.” 

“No way!” Shiro’s face split into a somehow wider, more blinding smile. “Me too!” 

Before Keith could reply, Shiro leaned in so close Keith could smell the rum on his breath. “Watch out for Slav. Seriously, he’s the _worst.”_

Their faces were almost touching and Keith felt like he’d just been dunked into a vat of ice water. He was sure he still _had_ lungs, but couldn’t force his body to prove it. “Oh… okay,” he managed to stammer and gain some momentum. “Got him for 101 this semester, Pidge is my lab partner. Doesn’t suck too bad so far.” 

Shiro’s grim, serious tone vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Having a Holt on your team is cheating.” He slung an arm around Keith’s shoulders, conking him lightly in the head with the rod he still held and almost toppling them both over, but Keith managed to steady them after a half turn. “Pidge is the most brilliant, little person, little… raccoon,” his sentence trailed off in a fit of giggles as he reached out and patted her on the top of her head. 

Pidge swatted at him and growled good-naturedly. “Don’t you have a dick to give away, you roided-up giraffe?” 

Shiro’s eyes widened and lowered slowly down his toga and then back up to the stick he was holding next to Keith’s face. “Oh! Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “Not til 9 though.”

“It’s 8:58,” Keith said quietly, trying to keep his heading facing forward but still avoid Pidge’s judgemental gaze. 

“Oh shit.” Shiro laughed again and disentangled himself from Keith. “We’ll talk physics later,” he promised with another wide smile. “See you around, Keith.” 

The way his eyes glinted made Keith’s mouth run dry. Words failed him but Shiro didn’t stick around for a reply. Keith watched him stagger through the crowd to the makeshift stage being hastily prepared on the other side of the large room. 

“So? Love at first sight?” Pidge goaded, elbowing Keith in the ribs. 

Keith glowered. “I’m going back to my room, find your own ride.” 

“Hey! No fair!” She looked ready to launch into one of her famous verbal assaults but an ear-piercing squeal from the speaker system next to the stage sent a chorus of agonized grunts throughout the crowd. 

“Sorry about that!” Matt’s chipper voice called through the still-squeaking speakers. “We’re ready to get this party started, so I’d like to call to the stage the actual Goddess gracing us with her presence tonight.” A few chuckles and more than a few wolf-whistles answered him. “Of course I could only mean the heavenly Alpha Omicron president, Allura!”

Pidge grabbed Keith’s arm and all but ran to the edge of the stage for a good view, dragging him along for the ride. A beautiful young woman elegantly ascended the rickety stairs and crossed the stage to where Matt was holding up another microphone. Her toga looked like it might actually have been authentic Grecian wool, and it was tied around the middle with a gorgeous pink sash. Platinum curls framed her face in a way that really did make her look almost divine. 

Especially compared to the disheveled, drunken mess of adorkable beefcake that stumbled up after her. 

“Well someone’s an eager beaver!” Matt said with a laugh. “Please also welcome Beta Omega Mu president, Shiro!” More wolf-whistles erupted along with some kind of culty-sounding chant Keith couldn’t understand. 

“Thanks, everyone!” Shiro shouted a little too loudly into the microphone he held a little too close to his face. “As most of you know, we are gathered here on this lovely evening to crown the victor of this summer’s charity drive contest!” 

The room erupted in discordant applause and cheers. Keith winced at the noise and felt a trickle of sweat slide down the back of his neck as he watched Shiro sway, far too close to the edge of the stage. He couldn’t focus on the words Shiro was slurring, something about thousands of dollars and students from low income households. All of his attention was on Shiro’s left foot hanging halfway off the stage and trying to resist the urge to look up and see what exactly Shiro was hiding under his toga. 

Keith snapped his head up to Shiro’s face and felt his own cheeks blaze with heat. Shiro had caught him staring and stopped mid-sentence to gawk down at Keith. Before Keith could think to mouth “I’m sorry” or otherwise try to remedy the awkward situation, Shiro whipped around, thrusting the stick in his hand in Allura’s general direction. 

“Anyway since Alpha Omicron raised nearly 10% more money than we did...” Shiro paused and Keith watched as his shoulders shook with barely-contained laughter listening to the women cheer and men boo. “It is my honor to hand over the Philanthro… philan… the stick. For charity! Congratulations Alpha Omicron!” 

The next 6 seconds went by in the blink of an eye but also somehow lasted an eternity to Keith. As Allura took the Scepter from Shiro’s grip and held it up over her head to an outpouring of cheers from the crowd, Shiro turned too fast and his toga snagged on Allura’s bracelet. His gladiator sandals offered zero traction on the freshly-waxed stage and Shiro was just the wrong side of hammered to do anything but try to ride the spin out. 

Keith’s arms opened without any input from his conscious mind and Shiro seemed almost magnetically drawn to them as he plummeted off the stage. 

Shiro slowly opened his tightly-clenched eyes and stared up at Keith in awe. “Wow…” he murmured. “Keith, you saved me.” 

Keith’s whole face was burning and he strained at the effort of not only holding Shiro’s heavily muscular body bridal style in his arms but also keeping himself from glancing down at the parted cloth that had come untied in the fall. 

Shiro’s arms tightened around Keith’s neck and he smiled. “You know, you’re really strong.” 

“Thanks,” Keith grunted. “I uh… I work out. But Shiro…” 

“Shhh,” Shiro said with a grin. “Let me give you… give you a reward.” He closed his eyes and puckered his lips while the entirely silent assembly watched in fascination. 

“Shiro! Your toga,” Keith hissed, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible while straining to hold Shiro in his arms. 

Shiro’s eyelids fluttered open disjointedly as he craned his neck to look down at his bent, completely bare, lower half. 

“Oh,” he said quietly, slowly turning his head to look back up at Keith. “I don’t usually do that on the first date…” 

Keith felt like his entire head was going to burst into flames, starting at the tips of his ears. 

“Could make an exception just this once, though. Since you saved me,” Shiro finished almost shyly, one corner of his mouth lilting up into a tantalizing smile. 

It took all the restraint Keith had down in the depths of his very soul not to openly stare at exactly what Shiro was offering. Instead of giving in to the temptation, Keith gently lowered Shiro to his feet and hastily wrapped the bedsheet around his waist. 

Matt cleared his throat into the mic and drew the crowd’s attention back to the stage. Neither Shiro nor Keith made any inclination toward listening to the rest of what Matt was saying or the victory speech Allura began shortly thereafter. 

“Thanks again,” Shiro said almost up against Keith’s ear. 

He was still swaying more than a little unsteadily and Keith couldn’t help a frown of concern. “Do you have a ride?” 

Shiro turned his head back up to the stage toward Matt, who had just begun shotgunning a beer. “Thought I did… guess not.” 

“Let me take you home,” Keith pleaded. “Seems like you need to sleep it off.” 

Shiro nodded and smiled at him gratefully. Keith took Shiro’s arm and slung it over his shoulder, half carrying him out to the parking lot. As soon as Shiro was nestled into Keith’s passenger seat, his eyes closed and he started softly snoring. Keith couldn’t help a quiet chuckle and hoped he remembered where the fraternity house was because Shiro would clearly be no help. 

It only took a few wrong turns before Keith found his way to the correct house on Greek Row. Thankfully Shiro’s brothers seemed to share his flare for the dramatic and the fraternity letters on the front of the building were surrounded in obnoxiously bright, multi-colored LEDs. He was uncooperative, bordering on catatonic, as Keith tried to drag him up the main drive to the house. 

Keith had just managed to get Shiro to put one foot on the bottom of the short staircase leading up to the front porch when his eyes widened and he stood ramrod straight. He was about to ask what was wrong, but suddenly Shiro turned, doubled over and emptied his stomach into the rose bushes. 

Keith grimaced and tried to rub Shiro’s back soothingly as he wretched. “There you go,” he encouraged. “Get it all out.” 

The unsettling noises slowed and then stopped as Keith’s hand made tentative circles over the muscles he was desperately trying to ignore on Shiro’s back. Finally, Shiro stood up a little straighter and let out a harsh breath. 

Keith grabbed Shiro’s hand before he could lift up the bottom of his toga to wipe his face. “Just… hang on,” he grumbled. 

He looked around for a moment, eyes scanning the yard and porch for a discarded shirt or jacket, or even a random flag of some kind, but found nothing. For such a dramatic organization, Beta Omega Mu seemed to be disproportionately tidy. 

Keith sighed and pulled down the zipper of his jacket, quickly shrugging it off. His face burned with a blush he was sure was glowing in the dark and he could feel Shiro’s eyes on him, but Keith reached up and pulled his t-shirt off in one smooth motion anyway. Shiro let out a startled noise that might have been a word slurred beyond recognition. 

Ignoring the confusion apparent on Shiro’s face and shivering slightly in the chill air, Keith pushed the shirt into Shiro’s face and grunted, “Here, wipe your face off.” 

As Shiro scrubbed at his mouth and eyes, Keith put his jacket back on and zipped it up to his collar bones. 

“Thanks,” Shiro murmured weakly, a soft smile on his face despite his bloodshot eyes and ghostly pale skin. 

“Come on,” Keith deflected, grabbing Shiro’s arm and tossing it over his shoulder again. 

Together, they made their way slowly up the front steps, into the house proper. The music blaring in the living room was thankfully nowhere near as loud as the Alpha Omicron’s giant meeting hall had been, though still annoyingly loud. 

“Where’s your room?” he asked, trying to thread the needle between screaming into Shiro’s ear and talking loudly enough that Shiro could hear him. 

Shiro squinted against the bright lights and looked up at Keith like he’d just been asked to solve a second order differential equation. 

“Right,” Keith said with a sigh, dragging Shiro over to the stairs and setting him down. The corner of his mouth tilted up into a small smile as Shiro curled around the bannister and closed his eyes. 

After definitely-not-gawking for a moment, Keith barged into the living room and grabbed the first person he saw. “Where is Shiro’s room?” he yelled, pausing to enunciate each word. 

“Upstairs!” the boy shouted back, apparently used to strangers accosting him and asking where the fraternity president should be deposited for the night. “Biggest one! End of the hall!” 

Keith thanked him and made his way back to the stairs, only to find a group of Beta Om brothers, sharpies and cameras in hand, waiting to draw all over the mostly-unconscious Shiro. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Keith growled, shoving his way past them. “If he has a single spot of ink anywhere, all those markers are going up the first ass I catch.” 

It wasn’t one of Keith’s best lines, he had to admit, but it was effective enough. The group scattered and he was rewarded with a sleepy laugh as Shiro held his arms up to be lifted off the stairs. 

“You just keep saving me,” Shiro slurred, eyes still barely open.

He nuzzled his head into Keith’s shoulder and Keith had to swallow past the golf ball that had suddenly appeared in his throat. “Let’s get you to bed,” he finally managed to squeak. 

There was only one room at the end of the hall, and judging by the large crown carved into the wooden door, it had to have been the president’s room. Shiro was starting to get heavy and the leather jacket stuck to Keith’s sweaty skin as they made their way down the hall and inside. 

Keith was slightly impressed with how neat the room was. Sure, there were a handful of dirty socks on the floor that hadn’t quite made it into the hamper and a few empty cans of beer and soda next to the mound of homework on the desk, but the bed was made and a sandalwood scented candle sat on the small bedside table, giving off a lovely aroma even though it wasn’t lit. 

Shiro tumbled into a ball on the bed as soon as Keith let go of his arm. The springs creaked in protest, but Shiro didn’t even seem to notice. One hand still clutching Keith’s dirty shirt, Shiro pawed at the blanket with the other. 

Keith laughed and let him struggle, grabbing his ankles so he could pull off the ridiculous gladiator sandals Shiro hadn’t even attempted to remove. He didn’t know where to put them, so he just let them fall to the floor and roll halfway under the bed. 

“Okay big guy,” Keith grunted, shoving Shiro over. “Let’s get this blanket on you, okay?” 

Shiro nodded and stopped the assault on his comforter, letting Keith roll him around until it was free. 

“There we go,” Keith said soothingly. “Now I just need my shirt back.” 

“No,” Shiro mumbled, curling up and pulling the blanket over his face like a toddler. “Not unless you stay.” 

Keith sighed and looked toward Shiro’s desk. There was a stack of post-it notes and a mostly-full bottle of water in easy reach, so he grabbed them. He sat the water on the side table with a note that said _DRINK ME._

He almost tossed the sticky notes back onto the desk, but hesitated. 

“Fuck it.” 

Keith ripped off another note and scrawled his name and number before he could think better of it. Underneath he wrote, “I want that shirt back.” 

He left the note next to the water bottle and put the pen and pad back where he’d found them. Shiro didn’t make a sound as Keith turned the lights off and shut the door. 

After glaring at the sharpie-gang with all of the malice he could muster, just for good measure, Keith left the Beta Om house. Back in his car, before he even turned the engine on, Keith had to shake his head and laugh at the way his heart was still doing jumping jacks thinking about Shiro calling him in the morning.

Pidge would never let him live this down, and Keith wasn’t even sure he minded.


End file.
